Tales of Matchstick Men
by Ultrawoman
Summary: One-Shot. Eliot never thought too much about how Parker suffered as a kid, until their latest job involving mistreated orphans.  Sequel to 'Poker Face', post The Stork Job. E/P.  Second in the 'Aces High' series.


**A/N: For the lovely folks that sent reviews on the previous one-shot (and for anyone else who cares as well!) here's another for you, in what might yet become a series...**

_**Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to John Rogers & Chris Downey and other folks that aren't me... but you knew that, right?**_

Tales of Matchstick Men (_sequel to Poker Face_)

The team were in Paris, and Eliot was not a bit impressed by the fact. Honestly, getting home was his priority but Sophie had insisted that Nate owed her a shopping trip and so here they were, whether they liked it or not, and Eliot didn't.

The flight over had been uneventful, but Eliot didn't much like planes at the best of times, and he certainly couldn't sleep on them. Besides, he liked to keep an eye out for the others whilst they got some rest.

Nate, Sophie, and Hardison were out like lights within a half hour of take off from Serbia. Parker was wide awake, though she did a good job of faking it when she thought he was looking. Her head was too busy, he was sure of it, but she didn't want to make a big deal. She kept an awful lot bottled up, and Eliot could relate to that. Of course, he hadn't entirely thought before how much she really did have to keep inside.

The fact Parker was raised in the system was a well-known fact. She was quirky and different and a little crazy, partly down to the fact she never had a normal or stable upbringing. Still, it was only when they started on this most recent job that Eliot had realised how much she might really have suffered.

Parker was an orphan. It was always a possibility but never really confirmed until a couple of days ago, sat around the conference table at Leverage HQ. Not all kids that got fostered or even adopted had dead parents, sometimes their folks just couldn't deal or were deemed not fit to do so. Parker really had started out from zero with nothing and no-one, and then proceeded to be thrown back and forth between foster families and orphanages like a rubber ball, never getting a chance to settle, to be comfortable and find her feet. Eliot realised now more than ever why she seemed so different, so broken in a way.

A lot of kids had rough childhoods. Hardison was fostered too, though he'd been lucky with his 'Nana'. Eliot had suffered some, his own upbringing far from pleasant for the most part, but compared to Parker, well, he figured he'd had candy-filled wonderland. He didn't know exactly what she'd been through, but the way she talked about orphans, the look in her eyes, Eliot knew it was bad, maybe worse than he ever really considered before.

The same sad and haunted expression had been on her face since they dropped the kids off. She knew they were being put in the system and that clearly scared her. From what Hardison had said in passing, she was most afraid of those poor children going through what she had to, of them turning out like her as a consequence. Eliot wanted to tell her there was nothing wrong with the way she turned out, flying in the face of all those times when he said the complete opposite. He regretted it now, wished he hadn't been so hard on her, especially as they'd gotten closer, almost too close after the job in Kentucky that made him face his own past and the pain that came with it.

Her pain was different, Parker had endured much worse than him as a kid, and not a bit of it was her fault. Given the chance, Eliot would quite happily put a fist or worse into the face of every person who led to the damage done inside of Parker's heart and soul.

All this had run through his head on the plane journey to Paris and continued to do so as the team booked into their suite of rooms at some fancy hotel that knew Sophie as an heiress of some kind. They were her entourage for the duration of their stay and Eliot didn't like that either, but he could deal with it. He really couldn't deal with Parker's silence. He expected her to be bouncing around like Tigger, just like always. He hoped the lure of Paris with its many museums and precious artifacts would cheer her up, but it seemed not.

When Sophie started rambling about shopping trips, Parker was as unmoved as the rest of them, but even Hardison's offer to go scope out the security system at the Louvre barely raised a shrug.

Nate was easily roped into helping carry bags for Sophie and she'd soon guilt-tripped Hardison into the same. They left Parker behind because they assumed she wanted some quiet time alone. She did most things alone so it was a fair assumption, and she did look kind of tired. Still, Eliot had a feeling she could actually use a little company, maybe an outlet for some pain. He opted to stay behind with her, under the pretext of having a book he wanted to finish, needing a little sleep, and not being allowed to be seen in Paris right now for reasons he wouldn't elaborate on anyway.

Of course, being left alone with Parker only seemed like a good idea to Eliot until they were actually there, alone, in silence, and not the comfortable kind. The thief was sat in the large bay window, looking out at the world, with her forehead pressed against the cold glass. Though he couldn't see her face Eliot would lay money she was either crying or close to being sad enough. It tore at his heart to know she was feeling so bad. He'd seen her without her clothes before, but it was this job that had allowed him to see her naked, completely undone.

He opened his mouth three times to ask if she was okay, to ask her what was wrong, and if she wanted to talk about it. Every question or comment sounded so thoughtless, so cliched. He ran the risk of making matters worse by not choosing his words carefully, and words did not come easily to a guy that was built purely for action.

Giving up for now, assuming she would come to him if she really needed him, Eliot got comfortable on one of the beds in the next room and settled down to read that book he'd talked about before.

It was two chapters later that Parker came wandering in, aimless and sighing. Eliot raised his eyes to glance at her but then went right back to his reading. She wanted attention, she needed to let him know and tell him what was up. He was not venturing in and making it worse, he just wasn't. It wasn't as if they didn't know how to talk to each other, but that night when they almost got as close as two people could get had added an odd new dimension to a relationship that had been no more then team-mates before. Now they were some kind of friends, but that night had never been spoken of or in any way revisited, not yet at least. Today was not going to be that day, he knew, sex was perhaps the furthest thing from either of their minds right now.

"What's the book?" she asked, as he felt her light weight impact heavy on the foot of the bed.

Eliot tilted the book up to show her the cover, and Parker sighed again. She flopped onto her back near his feet, instantly bored at the idea of reading anything, Eliot assumed. Rolling his eyes, he put the book and his glasses aside on the locker by the bed and sat up to look at her.

"You wanna do something else?" he asked, the very opposite of suggestive, despite where they were positioned right now.

Parker only shrugged awkwardly against the comforter, then shook her head, dislodging tears that rolled down her cheeks unchecked. She bit her lip, trying in vain not to cry, but it was no use, even though she turned her face away. She was struggling to speak and Eliot just let her be until she found the words and the voice to tell him.

"I just..." she cleared her throat and started over, "I just keep thinking about those kids" she told him, reaching up to wipe the tears off her cheeks that she felt so dumb for shedding all over again, "I know the system works sometimes, but not always, not for everyone" she shook her head, swallowing hard and hoping she wouldn't feel the need to cry anymore, even though she was sure Eliot would not judge her for such a thing.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure they'll be okay" he said, almost reaching out to her but thinking better of it at the last, running his hand through his own hair instead, "and if things get tough, well, decent people go through rough times, they still come out okay" he told her with a smile.

Parker smiled too, because she understood what he meant by his pointed look. Even though he hadn't said he meant her, she knew he did. All those years of thinking she was okay and being told she wasn't. Now at her lowest ebb, here he was to tell her she was just fine. It made a difference, more than she could ever explain. Nodding her head, she sat herself up then and sniffed hard.

"So, you wanna play cards?" she asked as she looked across at him.

Eliot's lips quirked with words unsaid before he finally did speak.

"Seriously? Like actually play cards" he checked, "'cause I don't think..."

"Relax" Parker almost laughed at his expression, a vast improvement on her crying just moments before at least, "I don't want comfort sex" she told him straight, "If I meant that, I'd've jumped on you by now" she told him frankly as she moved to get off the bed in search of a pack of cards, "Anyway, I wanna know if it really was beginners luck last time or if I can really kick your butt at poker"

Eliot wasn't sure how she pulled such one-eighties, one second in tears looking like a lost little girl, and the next talking about sex and gambling like she was an old hand at both. She was one hell of a woman, that much was abundantly clear to him, now as much as ever.

Before long, Parker was sat lotus style opposite Eliot, dealing out the cards for their game. He glanced around and then scrambled away, returning a moment later with a few complimentary books of matches from the hotels supply.

"We'll play for matchsticks" he explained to Parker, who shrugged.

"Sure, whatever" she agreed, knowing she wasn't in the mood for strip poker and didn't care enough to gamble money.

Honestly, she just wanted to concentrate on something other than all the ugly thoughts filling her head right now. She meant what she said about the comfort sex, she didn't want that because she knew it wouldn't help. Besides, she would be using Eliot as much as he almost used her after the whole deal with his ex, Aimee. There was a lot of things Parker didn't understand about relationships, but she did understand using people and why that was a very bad thing. She wouldn't do that to Eliot, not now, not ever.

Eliot was sure Parker must be cheating at poker. Unfortunately, he couldn't prove it, and after several hands of watching her intently, trying in vain to see how she was doing it, he came to the conclusion that she had to be just as lucky at cards as she was skilled at thievery. She had won by an absolute mile and didn't even let Eliot have victory in what they decided would be the last hand. With a grin, she pulled a few more matchsticks towards her and grinned.

It felt good for Eliot to know he helped her, that the smile on her face was partly his doing. She had been so pained before, it was a vast improvement. Unfortunately the grin faded a moment later into a mix of confusion and sadness.

"What now?" he asked with fake annoyance.

"I dunno" she shrugged, fingering the matches she had won, "I mean, I beat you, easy, and I got the reward" she noted, "but it's just matchsticks, a pile of tiny pieces of wood. What was the point?"

Eliot wondered if they were really talking about matches here or something more, but hadn't the nerve to ask right now for fear of making matters worse. She could mean her words just as they came out, that was usually Parker's way. If she meant more she said more, as a general rule. For a girl used to diamonds, piles of cash, anything in the world she wanted, he figured a pile of matches really couldn't mean much, making her victory seem as hollow as she'd felt just an hour or so before.

"They don't have to mean nothing" he told her, though she barely seemed to be listening at first, "Hey, take this" he said, getting her to look up at last and take the paper and pencil from him that he'd just retrieved out of the drawer by the bed, "For every matchstick you won, you write down a name" he explained off her wide-eyed look, "Names of people from before, anyone that hurt you"

Parker stared at Eliot for a long moment, her eyes searching his for an answer to the question she thought she didn't need to ask. Still, she couldn't be sure she understood unless she got it out there.

"Why?" she asked, as the hitter picked up one of the matches off his own small pile and twirled it around between his fingers, "What'll happen to them?" she asked in earnest.

Eliot didn't say a word, just moved his hand where she could see it clearly, and snapped the mathstick clean in two between his fingers.

The look in his eyes told her it was no coincidence, it was a sign, and it meant the world to Parker. She felt tears threatening again, but this time they were the happy kind. It was amazing to Parker that somebody could care so much about her, not just as she was now, but what she had been, what she had suffered in her past. She didn't know how to say all she wanted to, and so she leaned in close to Eliot and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you" she said, almost too softly to be her own voice as she backed away again, eyes shining.

Eliot was serious about the list, he was always serious about stuff like that, but she didn't feel the need to do it right now. Maybe, someday, but not now.

"What about yours?" she asked then, putting the paper and pencil aside and reaching for the smaller pile of matches in front of Eliot, "Yours still don't mean anything. What can I give you?"

Eliot could think of a hundred answers to that, and quite a few were disasteful. Now was so not the time and place for that kind of thinking, but one idea that came to mind seemed just right.

"For every one of these" he said showing her the matchsticks now in his hand, "You owe me a smile" he told her, "'S gonna save on me coming up with ways to cheer you up when you're being grumpy about crap"

Parker liked that idea apparently as she picked out of the matches out of his hand and showed him a wide grin that made him chuckle. Without another word, Parker got to her feet then and executed a perfect twirl.

"So, you wanna go out?" she asked, running her hands over her face, and straightening out her hair.

"Go where?" Eliot checked, a little bemused by the sudden turn of events, but then he ought to be used to the whole turning on a dime thing by now when it came to Parker.

Grabbing him by the arm with both hands, she hoisted him up to his feet and dragged him to the window, bouncing like a kid on a sugar high, just like Parker normally would. Eliot dragged his feet as he followed her, making out as if he were exasperated by her, as always. In reality, it was a pleasure to see her back to normal... or at least what passed as normal for the crazy chick that was Parker.

"How about... up there?" she pointed when they were both at the window looking out.

"Seriously?" Eliot's were wide as saucers, "The top of the Eiffel Tower? With you?" he asked.

Parker rolled her eyes.

"I promise not to jump off... or to push you off" she swore faithfully, "Does that make it better?"

"Fine" Eliot sighed in agreement like it was a huge deal.

Honestly, he was just happy to see her smiling again, hoping against hope that there would never be another day when he saw that beautiful grin disappear from her face again.

The End


End file.
